


What We Want

by Lady_Nire



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, excuse me this is smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-04-12 01:11:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19121548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Nire/pseuds/Lady_Nire
Summary: Sansa Stark thinks she's come to know what Littlefinger wants and what he's been after this entire time. Petyr decides to call her bluff and show her the truth. But is Sansa ready to know the truth?Basically PWP you've been warned.





	1. Question Me

**Author's Note:**

> First attempt at GOT and Petyr/Sansa fic. Please leave comments and thoughts below! This will be a three part story. Not beta-read

"Do you think you know me?"

Sansa couldn't help but scoff internally at his statement. She didn't know Littlefinger. Not really. She thought she did before he left for the Vale. The old Littlefinger, the man she knew to be Petyr Baelish, had been a kind man. A family friend that she had trusted without a shadow of doubt. Someone that she had enjoyed spending time learning from and getting tutoring about the things that really mattered in the world. 

But now she was conflicted and torn by him. He was a man who wanted to confuse people. Cause chaos. How could you trust a man who wanted nothing more than to cause conflict and strife? If he had killed Joffery who knows who else he had killed? He murdered a man who owed payment to for a favor in cold blood. It had shocked her, disturbed her even. The image of the soft, intelligent, gentleman that she knew growing up was shattered and replaced by a brutal, cold hearted mystery that she could not figure out. 

“I know what you want,” she replied after a pregnant silence, looking up to finally meet the eyes of the man that killed his aunt. Not even a fortnite ago.

His mouth quirked into a smug grin that didn't reach his calculating eyes. A trait that she noticed he practiced often. 

“Do you?” He questioned, his voice low and full of curiosity. 

Sansa couldn't stand his gaze as his eyes grew from a light gray to a stony sea. She lowered her eyes back to the quilting she was working on. She knew that he was far more clever than her. It would do her no good to try and outsmart him. While she may have been getting better at playing the game, he knew all of her tells. 

As she picked her needle back up she heard the soft sound of him stepping closer into her cramped room. “And what do I want my dear?” He asked, stopping a foot away from her. Invading her personal space and causing to lean away slightly as she collected her thoughts. 

Sansa felt her pulse quicken, she peered at his shoes as she tried to think of an answer. She didn't know. But she was starting to think that some part of it involved her. Her hand stilled and the room was silent. Sansa decided the best response in this situation was no response. 

Minutes passed and she swore his eyes bored into her soul. Finally Littlefinger decided to break the silence. "As I thought, you have no idea what I want." 

She lifted her head slowly, her eyes carefully focusing at his nose so she didn't have to meet his eyes. "You told me you wanted everything," she began. 

"No one can have it all, not even a king." 

The conviction in her voice was strong as she channeled her mother's signature prideful tone. Attempting to appear sure and strong in front of this man.

Littlefinger chuckled at her and shook his head. "You think that simply because you've never met a man who aimed higher than their base instincts," he told her. 

"You know men who want nothing more than a large family and a few titles on their name. Men who would be happy with a full belly and a few whores to warm their bed at night," his voice was low and laced with venom. 

"I know those men and I know them well. Do you think keeping brothels is just selling sex? No, I sell them their deepest fantasies. They tell me their darkest secrets. I stared into the soul of every man who came through my doors," he closed his eyes. 

"That's where I learned how truly feeble most men are. Most men would give their last gold piece if it meant getting validation from a woman. Some comfort in her bosom for the night." 

Sansa couldn't help but laugh. "Validation? Isn't that what you wanted from my mother? What you begged her for? You couldn't handle just being friends with her. It wasn't good enough. Aunt Lysa told me that you were so lovelorn for her that you challenged a far more skilled swordsman than you. And you lost. Violently." It was a story she had heard more than once. And one she fully expected to be truthful. Her father Ned was skilled with a sword and Brandon had been rumored to surpass even him. Brandon had also been known for a temper far worse than any other man of Winterfell. 

The man standing before her took a step back, recoiling as if she had struck him with her hand rather than the truth. His eyes dropped to the floor and his voice wavered when he spoke again. 

"I was a young fool," he admitted. "I loved your mother, truly. And when she stood aside and let Brandon Stark take her from me, it devastated me. I allowed it to cloud my head for many years and it drove me mad until I decided to stop wallowing in self pity and make something of myself. I forgave your mother and remained one of her closest advisers. And I have no ill feelings toward her or Ned Stark, really."

A large but false smile spread across his face. "Besides sweetling, I have discovered that there are far more beautiful blossoms out there," his eyes raked over her form as he emphasized the word blossoms and Sansa found herself shifting uncomfortably under his scrutiny. She felt all of her awkward post puberty issues resurface. She knew that he was fond of her but to what extent she want sure. She knew that he was an affectionate man. Whenever he was around his mother she noticed that he stole soft touches and soft kisses on her cheek. So why would she think strangely about his affection toward her? Now she was questioning her comfort ability around him and everything she knew to be true about him.

"Am I just a doll to you then? A cheap substitution of my mother that you've taken in to fulfill some cheap fantasy of yours?" Her voice was low but her tone was accusing as her brain started catching up to his devious plan. 

Littlefinger moved to sit next to her on the small bed. There was barely room for a copy of The Seven Pointed Star to fit between his knee and her thigh as he turned to face her. 

"Sansa, you're mourning. Mourning for the death of your parents, your brothers, and your aunt Lysa," he began as he gently placed a hand on her knee. 

"Because you're mourning I don't take offense to anything you're saying right now. But do know sweetling, I took you in so that you wouldn't be at the mercy of the Lannisters. I saved you from a marriage with the imp who would have eventually bred you children who would be of a strong Noble background. Here I offer you the opportunity to lie low until I am able to take you home to Winterfell where you might be able to become wardeness of the North." 

Sansa swallowed, taking in his words carefully. "How do you intend to get me home? Knowing that the Boltons have taken Winterfell," she asked. 

Littlefinger smirked as he drew his hand away from her and folded them into his lap. "I will figure that out in good time sweetling." 

He rose and turned away from her, hand on the door. "But do know, I have your best interests in heart. You are more than just a pretty face to me Sansa. You are family now. I an responsible for you until you're home safe. It is a responsibility I take seriously," he bowed out of the room leaving her to her thoughts. 

Sansa cast her thread work aside and stood up pacing the small room. She didn't know if she could trust him or not. Especially not with more recent developments with his character. 

She had never expected him to kiss her the way that he kissed her in the courtyard. Up until now he had only kissed her on the cheek or the forehead and all of them had been chaste. But in the courtyard, the moment his lips touched hers, she felt a shift in their relationship. His kiss had ignited something deep within the pit of her stomach. The sort of feeling she felt when she first became engaged to Joffery, before she found out what a horrible he was. But despite the rush of heat that she felt when he kissed her, she had also been terrified of what it meant. It meant that he was not the harmless, kind uncle that he pretended to be. But now he was something scary and threatening, in a way she wasn't prepared for. 

Sansa stood up and cast her thread work aside, rushing into the hallway to catch him before he got too far away. "Do you kiss all of your family like that?" She called after him. Petyr stopped at the end of the hall and turned to look at her. He looked momentarily disarmed, but his face quickly returned to normal. 

He looked at her and moved slowly back toward her room. "I'm sorry," he began "Define what 'that' means for me sweetling," in a few strides he was standing in front of her, his eyes meeting her eyes. Completely unreadable. 

She looked down at him, her eyes hardening so she would not back down. "You know what I'm talking about," she warned.

His smile grew wider. "I don't see what was wrong with the way I kissed you Sansa," he lied. 

"After all, you are family are you not?" 

Sansa swallowed. Realizing that he was not going to give in easily to her. "That wasn't a familial kiss Lord Baelish," she spoken slowly. She found her cheeks growing warm and she felt the warmth of the kiss all over again. 

He grasped her chin with one hand and gently tugged on her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. "What makes a kiss for a beloved family member different than the sort of kiss I think you're accusing me of?" He asked.

Sansa shivered, realizing that this was moving in a direction she wasn't quite ready for. She felt panic rise in her chest, wanting to pull away from the man who was holding her there. But another, smaller part of her wanted to test him and push his boundaries. To see if he was just playing a game with her or wanted her to buckle for him. 

"Intent," she answered after a minute. Maybe a heartbeat too long. 

His eyebrow quirked at her. "What was my intent dear Sansa?" He whispered. 

She shook her heads, at a loss for words. His eyes darkened as his hand gently moved to her neck, moving her hair out of the way. He gazed at her exposed neck for a moment. 

"How did I kiss you?" He asked her as he gently moved to ghost his lips over her exposed neck. She shuddered as his lips barely touched her neck but she felt the electricity run through her body nonetheless. 

"I...it was very...ah….sensual," she replied weakly. 

"Hmmmm?" He questioned, his lips gently pressing against a pulse point in her neck. 

He pulled away and locked his blue eyes with her stormy gray eyes. "What made it sensual?" He questioned. This question he formed in a way that he demanded an answer and Sansa felt something stir deep within her that she had been trying so desperately to keep away. 

Before she realized what was happening, her hands were up and pressed against his chest. Hands finally touching the rich silk doublet she wondered so often about. Feeling the luxury shift under his fingers as he inhaled sharply at her sudden contact. "Sweetling," his voice came out more like a groan than it was supposed to. "Answer the question," with that, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and tugged lightly at her head. 

Sansa gasped and tried to answer. Her brain wasn't working exactly as well as it was when she initially confronted him. And the blood in her brain was rushing to other places, distracting her quite heavily. "I don't….well you...it was very slow and quite intense." She breathed. "And it felt like...well..you did use your tongue," she whispered the last part, embarrassed to recall at the sensation of his tongue gently seeking entry into her mouth, but she had been too mortified to let him. 

"Well, I wouldn't say I got to use my tongue," he replied as he leaned in and whispered against her ear. His tongue gently flicking out to touch her earlobe. "As I recall, you denied me entrance into that pretty little mouth of yours," his words came out like a series of growls again. 

Sansa felt Petyr's other arm snake around her wait to pull her against him, her arms were crushed up against his chest more forcefully now. 

"So, you don't deny it?" She whispered against his hair as he breathed deeply into her ear. "That your kiss was not that of a man kissing his daughter?" 

The hand in her hair tightened and she felt her heart skip. "I told you, in a perfect world, you could have been my daughter. But our world sweetling, is far from perfect" at that, his mouth traveled from her neck and gently moved across her face until it found hers in a warm embrace. 

Sansa felt all of the tension in her body give out as she went slack against him. This kiss felt more frantic and frenzied than the previous one. His tongue pressed against her mouth and she opened for him immediately and flushed as she felt his warm tongue explore her mouth. 

Having never been kissed like this before, Sansa felt a little out of her depth. Joffrey had never given her anything more than a few disgusted kisses now and again. This was entirely different for her and she struggled to keep up with him as he deepened the kiss, stealing the very breath from her body. Just as she thought she had no more breath to give, he pulled away from her, just enough to search her questioning eyes with his own. 

She looked at him as her mind attempted to think straight in her lust induced haze, worried about whether or not she should let this continue. This man was her uncle now. Maybe not by blood but she was at his mercy. If she let things progress it could come back to bite her later. After all, the only person Littlefinger really cared about was himself despite what he was telling her. 

"Have you figured it out yet?" He asked, his eyes searching her eyes, the first signs of vulnerability showing in his darkened eyes. 

She blushed and looked away from him, embarrassment and guilt mixing as she recalled what happened just days prior, Littlefinger throwing her aunt to her death. What was she doing? How did she know that he wouldn't do the same thing to her? She pulled away from him and steadied her breathing. She turned away from him and folded her arms. "I don't…. I can't give you what you want." She whispered at the stone wall. 

She heard him clear his throat behind her and gather his robes, the soft material sweeping the stone floor. 

"Can't?" He breathed out, as he steadied his own breathing "or won't?" He turned and left her with the sound of her own heart beating through her chest…..


	2. Show Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Petyr decides to visit Sansa to apologize for his behavior in the hall.

Sansa tossed in the small bed she called hers as she tried to quell the thundering in her chest. She couldn't stop thinking about the way that her body reacted the Littlefinger's attentions earlier. She groaned and pressed her thighs together as she tried to ignore the wetness under her small clothes. It started the day he first kissed her in the courtyard. She had never thought about him in a sexual manner until that day. Nor had she ever truly felt lust for anyone before. Sure she had developed a crush on Joffrey but it was distinctly different from what she was feeling now as she writhed under the covers. 

Sansa blushed and decided that she should try and relieve herself somehow. That maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if she touched herself the way her body begged for him to touch her. Her hands trailed under the sheets and crept under her gown. Her hands felt like fire on her own skin, and they trembled against herself in anticipation. Heat coiled tightly in her lower abdomen as she ghosted her fingers across her nether lips. Dipping slowly in-between them, sliding experimentally between them. A small moan left her lips and she repeated that motion, moving her hips slightly against her hand as she did so. 

After a few minutes, Sansa found a rhythm with her movements and tried to stifle her moans into the pillow. She felt herself growing hot and stopped, sitting up to remove her gown over her head. Just as she pulled it over her head, the door opened and light from the hall flooded into her room. Sansa panicked and pulled the covers up over her, but it was clearly too late. 

Littlefinger's eyes had already taken in her naked torso and now the were narrowed as they watched her attempt to look decent in front of him. 

"Lord Baelish," she greeted, clear and evident embarrassment in her voice. 

He smiled at her, a hint of smugness glinting in his eyes. 

"Sansa, you continue to amaze me," he whispered. She felt her stomach flip at his words. 

"I wasn't expecting you my Lord," he replied. 

He chuckled, "No, but you wanted me to pay you a visit," came his reply. 

"That's very presumptuous of you," she warned. 

He chuckled and stepped into the room, closing the door and shutting out the Torchlight from the window. 

"No sweetling, but you've been touching yourself, undoubtedly at the thought of me," his voice was a whisper but it got louder as he drew close to her bed. 

"I've done no such thing," she lied as her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she watched him hover near her bed. 

"You're a terrible liar Sansa. Don't you think a man in the business of pleasure knows how to identify a woman's scent when she's in the throes of passion?" He raised an eyebrow at her, and she shifted uncomfortably under the covers. Suddenly very aware of the very intimate thing she just tried to do. 

His eyes traveled to her arms that were holding the sheets very close to her chest, covering her naked torso from him. His eyes glistened as they trailed down her body to where her hips flared under the sheet. 

"Don't let me stop you," he growled and he took a few steps back, sitting in a chair a few feet away. 

"Lord Baelish," she began. 

"I told you, call me Petyr," he warned. 

She swallowed and attempted to approach him again. 

"Petyr, you shouldn't be here." She warned. 

He chuckled softly at her. 

"Oh no? But you clearly want me near you. You probably want me inside of you. But you're too proud to give in to what you know to be true in your heart," he accused. 

Sansa gasped at his statement and narrowed her eyes at him. Why was he like this? So charismatic and tempting? Why did she feel her body responding to his words? Her most intimate place contracting and spasming as she imagined what it would feel like of she allowed him to take what he wanted. What she wanted. 

Littlefinger, no, Petyr stepped closer to the bed and his hand cautiously reached out and grabbed the sheet, before his fingers curled around the hem of the blanket she was holding up with her arms. His eyes found hers and he bored deep into her soul as he tried to read her face that was marred with emotion. She found she could not display the resolve she wanted to, her eyes caved under his gaze and her face softened as her arms gently fell to the bed. 

He smirked before he pulled back the covers and exposed her nearly naked form that was covered now only by the small clothes that sat askew around her hips. His eyes slowly traveled from her face, down the rest of her body as he sharply inhaled her scent. She noticed the small shudder than ran through him as he sat next to her. 

"Sweetling, please" he whispered "Show me what you were doing." His eyes found hers and she found herself nodding and her hands moving on their own accord. Shame flooding her as she gave into her most depraved desires. 

Her hands reached under her small clothes and she slowly touched herself, sliding her fingers down her folds as she nervously licked her lips. She heard Petyr groan quietly next to her and it emboldened her to move her fingers more vigorously. Her head fell back onto the pillow and she sighed as she moved. 

She felt her clothes shift and she looked down to see Petyr gently pulling her small clothes down her legs, letting them pool around her ankles. He then sat on the bed next to her and gazed at her hand the was working the outside of her sex. She felt the moisture pool faster at his proximity. 

"Have you reach inside yourself sweetling?" He whispered.

Sansa shook her head. She had attempted to before but had been too worried about ruining herself for her future husband. Petyr exhaled and his fingers flexed on his thighs. "Why haven't you?" He asked. 

Sansa blushed and her hands stopped moving. "I...I didn't want to ruin myself." She whispered, her head turning to face him. Her eyes shy and inexperienced. 

Petyr chuckled and shook his head. "A woman's worth is measured by more than her womanly virtue." He explained. "And more importantly, a boy would not be able to tell if you had broken through your barrier Sansa. Every woman's flower is different. Yours may have little resistance at all." He explained. 

Her eyes widened and she nodded at his words. Littlefinger probably knew more about women's bodies than anyone she had ever met. Except maybe Theon. But he had a lot of practice. 

"May I touch you there?" He asked as his hand reached down to caress her thigh. Sansa nodded weakly at him again and he smiled, letting his hand trail further up to her moist Apex. His thumb brushed the pink that peeked out between her folds and his index fingers trailed behind it, slipping in between them. He massaged her gently at first, slowly finding a rhythm and Sansa felt her hips buckle at his motions. He breath started to become more shallow as she squirmed against his fingers and he took this as an opportunity to shift so that he was hovering over her body supporting himself on one arm nestled next to her head as the other continued to work on her. His face was next to hers, and she turned so that her lips were nearly touching his ears. Allowing him to better hear how she responded to his movements. 

When his finger sought her entrance she felt her body freeze momentarily. "Relax sweetling" he breathed. Petyr lifted his head and locked eyes with her and she found a softness she realized he did not wear often. Feeling bold she tilted her head up and kissed him, her lips slow and uncertain. He quickly took the lead and deepened the kiss, making sure it was slow but full of passion. 

Before she even realized what was happening, she felt one of his long fingers pushing gently inside of her. She moaned against his mouth and he gently twisted it inside of her, startling her but bringing her pleasure at the same time. He pulled it out and then pushed it back in again, slowly working her and getting her accustomed to the sensation before adding in another finger. Sansa squirmed as the second digit invaded her senses and she began panting. His fingers worked her sex relentlessly and she felt herself needing more. 

"Please, Lord Baelish I-" she stopped herself not from asking what it was she really wanted.  
  
"What is it Sansa? Tell me what you want," he breathed against her lips.

"I…" she was at a loss for words. Her mouth moved but no sounds came out as she struggled to tell him what she wanted. As she struggled to determine what she wanted from him. 

After a moment, Petyr's fingers stopped moving and slowly withdrew from her. She whispered at the loss of and he chuckled against her ear. 

"Tell me Sansa, use your words," he breathed. 

She sighed and felt her naked chest heave against his clothed one. The friction of his jacket felt amazing against her hypersensitive buds. 

"I don't know," she finally admitted. 

Petyr sat up, looking carefully down at her face. Sansa searched his eyes looking for some hint of emotion across his impassive features but she found nothing. 

He stood up and smoothed out the front of his clothing. He made a mildly discontent sound and turned away from her. She felt her heart drop into her stomach as she watched his movements. 

"Petyr, I don't understand," her voice was hoarse, still thick with desire but choked with a feeling of rejection. 

He turned his head in her general direction, his eyes looking away from her. 

"Neither do I sweetling," his voice was cold "and until you figure it out, it wouldn't be right for me to continue." With that, he silently swept out of her room and shut the door behind him……


	3. Chapter Three: Take Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa finally comes to visit Petyr. And Petyr has much to show her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is nothing but smut guys, there's zero plot here. And as always, this is not beta-read so please don't mind the typos. Also, perspective shift!

CHAPTER 3 

It had been three weeks since Petyr Baelish had walked out on Sansa the night that he came the closest he had ever come to fulfilling a fantasy that long since graced his mind. Petyr had dreamed about taking Cat’s daughter for years now. Not until she was a bit older of course, but now she was on the verge of seventeen, a woman for certain. Not much younger than Cat when she had been betrothed to Brandon Stark and he had been exiled. He remembered how destated he had been the day that Brandon cut him down and the look on her beautiful face as Cat turned away from him, and into the arms of the man who nearly killed him. When he returned to Kings Landing, nearly fifteen years later, he was shocked to see how much her eldest daughter took after her looks. 

He had been unable to resist kissing her in the Eyrie. She looked so inviting as she questioned his motives for killing that beastly child king Joffery. So innocent and dare he say, wanting. His hands had twitched as he debated whether it was too early for him to show his hand attempt to court her. Fortunately or unfortunately, his desire had won over and he decided to make his intentions known to her. He remembered the innocent, confused look on her face as he had taken in his face after his kiss. He remembered the way her lips trembled. Unbeknownst to him, he had set events in motion for the both of them that would pay dividends weeks later. 

Petyr thought of all of this as he sat in his solar, he stroked his mustache as he pondered over some accounting. As lord protector of the vale, it was his job to ensure that things run smoothly. As winter was coming, he wanted to ensure that the people would have enough supplies. This would keep the people happy and thus, keep the regents of the Vale happy and slightly less cynical of his role there until young Robert was able to take his role as King. As the finished the last stroke of his quil into the ledger book, he heard the door to his quarters open and he looked up, his face momentarily flashing with surprise as he saw the object of his recent frustration standing in his doorway. 

His eyes slid to the thin gown that was covering her body, then over to the window where he observed it was indeed night time. He must have missed supper as he worked. Oh well, he wasn't hungry anyway. 

“Lord Baelish, Robin and I missed you at supper,” she informed him as she stepped further into his solar and shut the door. He rose and put his ledger away, walking over to greet her with a small bow. 

“I am aware my lady, I am sorry to have kept you and the young king waiting,” he lied. 

In truth he enjoyed spending time away from Sansa. He needed the space to clear his head as his loins still burned from the encounter they shared in her chambers. He needed time to process his plan for her and what he did when he revealed his weakness for her. 

“It’s fine,” she replied as she found her way to a sitting chair. “I had some matters I wanted to discuss with you though, my lord.” she told him, resting her hands in her lap, neatly folded. 

He sat across from her on a small cushioned chaise. He leaned forward so that he looked open and inviting, giving her leave to continue. “Yes, sweetling?” he prompted when she failed to pick up on his body language. 

Petyr watched her open her mouth once, then twice, before folding and unfolding her arms in frustration. She clearly was not ready to discuss whatever was on her mind and he took a small delight in seeing her squirm as she attempted to collect her thoughts. Here in his room, she was truly and utterly Sansa Stark, no trace of the confident and witty Alayne Stone sat in his solar this evening. 

“I’ve given it some thought,” she began her voice wavering with uncertainty. 

He raised an eyebrow, encouraging her to continue as he felt a bit of hope spring up in the bottom of his stomach. 

“I...What you showed me that night, I’ve been practicing it on my own,” color flooded her cheeks as the admission tumbled from her mouth and Petyr felt his cock stir as memories of that night flashed through his mind. 

“Oh? Tell me about it sweetling,” he encouraged with a wicked smile. 

Sansa crossed her legs and shifted in her seat under his gaze and nodded.

“I….I’ve done it every night since then. Trying to practice, to make it feel the way it felt when you did it,” she explained “It feels nice, very nice. But it’s not really the same” she admitted, her eyes dropping to the floor. 

Petyr pictured young Sansa writhing under her bed covers attempting to please herself, to bring herself to her own orgasm but being unable to. He cleared his throat as he tried to ignore the way his pants were suddenly too tight and his eyes clouded over with lust. He tried to maintain his composure as he spoke, finding the right words to ensure she would wake up in his bed tomorrow. 

“I see, and you’ve come here to ask me for assistance then?” his voice was light and friendly he was still speaking as Lord Baelish, the protector and friend to Sansa Stark not as Littlefinger, the man that could charm his way into the Queen’s chambers himself. He did not want to scare her or intimidate her into his arms. That would only corrupt his intentions with her. He wanted her to feel safe around him so that she would willingly give him what he wanted from her. 

She nodded and gazed at him from under hooded, shy eyes. He stood and moved so that he was kneeling in front of her, his mouth turned up into a soft smile. 

“I am glad that you had the good sense to come and see me Sansa,” he told her quietly. “Your happiness is important to me and knowing that you take your pleasure seriously is wonderful,” he placed his finger, heavy with rings on her knee and gently stroked the skin that was exposed by the gown that sat only inches above his hand. 

“Will you walk with me to the bed chambers? I think you’ll be more comfortable there,” he whispered. 

She nodded and rose slowly, and he stood to do the same. Silently he led her around the corner and through a small door to where his bad sat. His was larger than hers, more than enough room for the two of them. And it was covered in soft furs and pillows that he hoped would bring her comfort and ease. He intended to spend a lot of time with her here tonight. Showing her things that she would come back begging for later. When they reached the bedroom, he motioned to the bed encouraging her to lie back. Sansa reached for the strings to her gown but Petyr held up his hand. 

“Stop, allow me. Lie down Sweetling,” he told her. 

Sansa complied, lying down on the furs her face beet red as he watched several emotions dance across her features. He smiled and climbed onto the bed, sitting so that he was hovering over her enough to undo the laces to her gown and pull the material down her shoulders, exposing expanses of milky pale flesh as he went. He admired the mound of red curls as he passed the gown down her hips and off of her body. When he was done, he sat back on his heels, hovering slightly over her legs. 

“Do you trust me Sansa?” he questioned. 

The girl nodded but it was not enough. “I want to bring you pleasure tonight Sansa, but to do that I will need you to trust me and to be honest with me. Can you do that for me? Can you give me your unwavering consent?” he questioned. 

After a moment of consideration she answered, “Yes Lord Baelish, I trust you. You have my consent” she replied. He smiled and reached for the curls that had fallen over her sweet face. 

“How much do you want Sansa? I need you to tell me what you need. I was not attempting cruelty in your chambers when I told you I did not know what you wanted and rejected you,” he explained. 

“There is simply, so much that I want to show you. So much that I want you to experience with me, but I can not take more than you are willing to give. So tell me, what is it explicitly, that you want from me?”  
“I want what you want Lord Baelish,” she whispered, her head rising slightly off the pillow. 

“And what is that my dear?” he replied. 

“Everything,” her eyes locked with his and a shudder ran through him. Her voice for the first time all evening sounded resolute in her declaration and it excited him. She was playing his game, mocking his desire, playing at even matching it, but her eyes told him she was not going to back down. This was the Sansa he loved to see. The one who pushed their boundaries. 

“My darling girl,” he murmured as he leaned forward and pressed his lips against her soft jawline “I hope you know what you’re asking me for” 

Petyr’s mouth traveled across her face, peppering it with slow, gentle kisses. He heard Sansa sigh underneath him as he worked, her chest gently heaving with contentment. His hands began to roam as his mouth worked, gently running up and down the sides of her slight body. He felt her squirm gently, pressing her body closer to his as he went. She was desperate for his touch, he realized and he decided to move even slower. Forcing her to wait and relax, and enjoy the experience he was going to give her tonight. 

As his cock twitched in his pants, he wondered if he would take her tonight. Petyr did not have intentions of taking her so early on in his attempts of courting Sansa. He wanted to preserve her gift for a little while, make sure that they were both ready before he claimed it. And in the back of his mind, Petyr was considering whether or not it would be of any importance if he decided to try and use her to form an alliance with another kingdom. He knew that anyone would marry a Stark whether her virtue was intact or not. So the idea of taking it himself dangled itself in front of his thoughts as he went. 

Sansa moaned, as his mouth went lower, now gently capturing a rosy nipple in his mouth. And he decided that it was of no matter. If Sansa begged him to tonight, he would not be able to refuse her, so better not to dwell on it and live in the moment, something that Petyr did not do often. One of his hands traveled down to her wet and wanting center and he slipped his middle finger in between her folds, teasing her and coaxing more of that wonderful wetness out of her. She was rolling her hips now, silently asking for more contact but as he released her opposite nipple with a soft ‘pop’, he chuckled and moved his hand away. 

“Please Petyr, don’t be wicked,” she whispered. 

He tried to ignore the trembling in her voice that made her request sound more like a moan than a request but he found that it was incredibly arousing. “Fuck,” he breathed into her ear and moved his hips against hers. He felt her body freeze for a moment, causing him to sit up and look at her face. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked as his face searched hers.  
Sansa shook her head slightly and looked away from him, at the wall behind him. “Nothing, I just...I’ve never felt a man so intimately before,” she admitted. “It startled me is all.” 

Petyr nodded feeling more blood pool into his cock at her admission. She really was innocent wasn’t she? He groaned and sat up, palming himself and taking a steadying breath. It had been too long since he was this aroused and he was worried he would cum into his pants at the rate she was going. 

“I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t offend you,” she said hastily at she sat up too. 

He shook his head as he closed his eyes and let out a breath. “No, not at all Sweetling.” he decided that it would be best to release himself and the pressure he felt. 

“Have you never seen one then? A man’s cock?” he asked frankly. Sansa blushed at his crudeness, she probably wasn’t used to such language. But he did not like to speak about sex in pretty prose. When it came down to it he was a man of practicality. 

She shook her head no, “I haven’t but I would like to see yours,” she whispered. It was all Petyr needed to hear to feel comfortable enough for the next stage. He stood up and disrobed himself, removing his pants first and debating whether or not he should remove his blouse. As much as he did not want Sansa to see his scar, he also did not want her to feel like this was an unfair trade. So he removed his own pants and then his shirt, before he sat down on the edge of the bed, watching Sansa’s face as she took in his form. He eyes traveled down the long scar on his body, a look of slight concern in her eyes before they moved down to his manhood which hung hot and heavy against his stomach. 

He watched her eyes widen and he could not help but feel a sense of pride. Petyr may not have been the largest man in Westeros but his cock was an average length and a slightly above average girth which on his small frame made him look for more impressive than men taller than he. Her eyes met his before her hand reached out and gently touched it, her fingers grazing his sensitive head.

He hissed at the contact and his hand darted out to grab her wrist. "Now now, there will be time for that some other day. Tonight I just want you to lie back and enjoy yourself sweetling," his eyes met hers as he released her hand and she nodded, laying back down on the furs. He moved over her, resting on one forearm as he reached down to stroke her center which was warm and wanting for him. His eyes locked with hers as he gently worked his fingers between her folds and eventually pressed a slickened finger into her. Her eyes closed as he did so and he signed into her neck at the feeling of her tightness around his finger again. He could only imagine what she would feel like around his cock instead and shuddered as he slid a second finger in. 

“Petyr,” she breathed into his ear, the older man paused and pulled back slightly to look at her. 

“Yes sweetling?” he questioned. 

Her ears turned red as her eyes darted past him. “I….I think I would like it if...if you used more than just your hands this time.” she suggested, clearly embarrassed because it was the first time she had spoken her desires out into the world. 

Petyr couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face. She was just full of surprises, wasn't she? He nodded his head and began tracing kisses down her neck slowly, taking the time to appreciate her soft sighs as he went. He eventually moved down to her stomach and groaned as he felt her firm stomach tighten as the feel of his lips. Her breathing quickened and he grinned, tracing her bellybutton with his tongue. 

Finally he made his way down to her center and he stopped to inhale her scent, a scent he wanted to know intimately. Sansa pressed her thighs together and he furrowed his brow, looking up at her. Her eyes were downcast with embarrassment. 

"Sansa, open your legs for me darling," he gently urgerd. 

She blushed furiously. "I'm not sure I understand," she explained as she propped herself up. 

"Didn't you say you wanted to feel more than my fingers?" He asked, his eyes boring into hers. 

"I did but...I meant I wanted to couple with you my Lord," she explained. 

He couldn't help but shake his head at her. "We will certainly have time for that. But right now…" he took his hands and gently pressed her thighs apart, urging her to open them and she hesitantly complied. "I want to show you one of the best ways a man can please a woman without even having sex with her," he explained. 

"Oh, I -" but her reply was cut off as Petyr dived his tongue in-between her legs, gently swiping between her folds. She gasped at the obscene noises his tongue made as he gently pleasured her most intimate place. He felt a sense of pride knowing that no one else was going to have the satisfaction of experiencing her react to this for the first time. Petyr worked slowly at first, then sped up his ministrations, until her noises indicated that she close, he slid a finger in as well and within seconds she was shuddering and convulsing. 

Petyr chuckled before he raised himself up off of her and allowed his lips to find hers again. He wanted her to taste her own nectar so she knew how sweet she tasted.  
After, he pulled away from her and locked eyes with Sansa as he positioned himself between her legs. 

“How did that feel?” he asked her. She blushed and looked away. “Unlike anything I’ve ever felt” she answered. “But I think I’m ready for something else” Sansa reached between them and grasped his cock in her hand, guiding it toward her. 

"Are you certain?" He asked her as he placed himself against her entrance. 

"Yes, Lord B--- Petyr." She corrected, her eyes glassy with lust. He nodded and gently pressed himself into her warm entrance, closing his eyes at the tightness. She whimpered under him and he gently placed a kiss to her neck and whispered sweet nothings into her ear to calm her as he paused for a moment. Allowing her to adjust to the new sensation. 

After a moment, he continued gently pressing into her, until he was fully sheathed in her. His heart threatened to pound right out of his chest as he relished the feeling of her around him. He pictured this far more than he cared to admit. And his dreams didn't come close to comparing to this. 

As he listened to the sound of his heart pounding, Sansa shifted under him, moving her hips in a plea for him to break out of his reverie. 

He flushed before he complied, moving slowly and silently teaching Sansa the way a man and a woman made love. Their bodies quickly fell into a rhythm with each other, and Petyr realized she would be a quick learner in this realm of exploration he was going to take her on. It didn't take long before he felt the familiar sensation of his orgasm approaching. He quickly pulled out and away from her, grasping himself in an attempt to calm the pounding he felt in his chest and rolled next to her on the bed. She whimpered and turned to face him, confused as to why he stopped. 

“I can’t worry about you falling pregnant Sansa,” he explained as he stood up and began to redress. Sansa sat up and frowned. 

“But surely you would like to finish my lord?” she asked. 

Petyr smiled and kneeled on the bed, “No sweetling, tonight you told me you wanted a new experience and that is what I gave you.” He leaned forward and placed a kiss on her cheek. 

“And I promise, that I will give you many new experiences soon.”


End file.
